Latroci
by Camena Versus
Summary: Every 1000 years, the Goddess descends to pass Judgement, and every 1000 years She rains destruction upon the world. That is, until this time; the Witch of Crystal has bought the mortals more time. A thousand years later, a Latroci must raise an army out of a broken world to defeat the Goddess. WARNING: f/f pairing, blood, gore, sexually suggestive themes.
1. Prologue: Advent of the Goddess

Hello there, lovelies.

First: thank you for your time, if you are indeed here to read this story; the misc. section of this site isn't the most popular places to go, so thank you! If you're not here to read it, then no cookies for you.

Second: this is a fic inspired by Valhalla Knights 2 as I was unsatisfied with the story.

Third: DISCLAIMER! Your favorite part. I do not own or claim any rights to or any aspect of Valhalla Knights 2 – it (unfortunately) belongs to K2 LLC. I only claim ownership of how I put the story together. I shall not in any way claim a profit from this story. This story is purely fan-made and K2 LLC is not responsible for what is in this story. The purpose of this work is to share the love for the game and to have a little fun with the plot.

Fourth: if you want to repost this somewhere, just let me know through email or PM. I'm not going to eat your head.

Fifth: Review please! Flames not welcome; save them, they will be removed. Constructive criticism is very welcome, however. Many hearts and cookies to those leave a simple review as well.

Peace ~

Camena

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**Prologue: Advent of the Goddess**

_The Gods have forsaken us._

Cobblestone struck the ground in likeness of mallets upon their drums. Only, cobblestone was not meant to ring upon the land in such a way. Buildings crumbled and split from their spider-web cracks, people split at their seams in sprays of red, and the Church – once so grand in all of its flying buttress glory – shattered with a single wave of Her finger. Screams severed by beasts unleashed by Her reached out their broken limbs to escape strangled throats to join the symphony of clamor.

_Every 1,000 years, She comes. _

I ran towards her, clothed feet catching upon broken stone while sounds of all things breaking – stone, bone, glass, voices – like the land was crying with the vibration of quaking earth. I looked at her. The Goddess who had descended from the heavens, sitting upon her throne of grandeur made of something earthly, yet from another world, her castle in the sky wrapped within wings of an Archangel. She is beautiful, a visage befitting of her title, and within her arms was a sword crafted for the destruction of worlds.

I hadn't realized that my teeth were clenched; my jaw was becoming sore, and I glared up at her, whose eyes were closed, glittering strands of gold framing a smooth face. It was as if she were sleeping, erect and holding that sword so close and gentle, upon an entire island within a winged embrace; wings wrapped about the island, wings splayed out above her, wings curved and ready to conjure vicious tornadoes. Below her, hell was upon land brought about by swords spearing from glyphs in the sky, and striking down everything.

_But She comes not bearing good news._

Then came the wind. If it was even possible, my breath quickened, my heart crushed itself into my chest over and over again until I screamed in my head for it stop. Her wings spread wide, the sound of her feathers beating on the air and the drums of my ears. Whatever Her wind touched, shattered, and people flew without wings – died before even touching ground. I drew closer and cannot wait any longer; I run as my own glyphs carve fire-white into the air between my feet and ground. And I must breathe – these lungs burn.

"Glacio!" I threw my arm forward in commanding, as if it would be last thing I could do. Pillars and mountains of carved ice rose to her, striking, tipping that island of wings. I have angered her more, for there must be something that had angered her first. _Oh, humankind, what have you done?_ Those unmoved lips unsealed a voice of despair – a long-held note of beautiful mortality – that struck a chord within the souls of mortals, trees, mountains – I felt it in the deepest pit of my stomach and wretched. Everywhere, the land below our feet was tipping as bodies tumbled and were crushed – but wait. People were clamping their hands down over their ears; some tore off the flapping piece of flesh to no avail. I could feel what they feel. Her voice seeping and prying at the folds of their minds – my mind – I must fight.

There was no time to be gawking. I deflected her incoming missiles of runed stakes with a defensive blast of aura, and raised my arms, summoning everything – what I had, what I thought I had, what I could possibly have.

_Mankind may lack power enough to defeat the Goddess now._

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air, and I dare take a moment's pause to look. Human forms convulsed, mounds of flesh shuddered and grew into tumors of otherworldly flesh, tearing open human skin to reveal skin of the dead, the wild, the faery. _Goddess, what have you created?_ They were transforming. "Aegis," I whisper and hope that this shield will hold against her rain of spears. Everything I have.

_But, perhaps in a thousand years' time, we may come to attain it._

"Machaera." It sounded so unfamiliar, this voice that tore from my throat. A sword that could be crafted by the heavens materialized above her, eager to drop in execution, but it must be complete, so I held it, gritting me teeth in defiance as I glared at the Goddess. By body burned, it ached, it bled, it cried out for me to stop. She turned her lid-sealed gaze upon me now; she would grant me the honor of laying her spell upon me. A great vortex swirled with obedience at her fingertips. I would not let her. But everything was fading from my vision, and I lowered a hand to reach into a fold of my tattered robes to clasp a rounded crystal of pure white, casting a spell on it as well.

_I am prepared to give my life if only to gain more time._

The sword came down, as did my arm. This sword, my finest magecraft, cleaved through only a single wing, scattering its feathers. I felt consciousness drifting, hope drifting, but I musn't lose hope. Everything began to dim, but this last vision of the Goddess sinking in rattled agony, her remaining wings wrapped about her injured form, gave me hope. Beastial screams, no doubt the work of her poisoned feathers, faded into the backdrop – everything became less, even the feel of the smooth polished crystal. And now nothing.

_Mark these words,_

_Trust the Gods no more._

_Have you the time to pray,_

_Have children and raise them._

_Give them swords and strengthen their minds._

_Live…_

_Let nothing sway your will to live._

_Mankind,_

_To live is to hope, to hope,_

_Is my plea to you._

_- The Witch of the Crystal_


	2. 1: Leave Ashes Behind

Yes, first real chapter. But it's not like people are reading, so this is more for my own amusement if anything. But same disclaimer as before. If there are readers, please review!

**Chapter 1: Leave Ashes Behind**

1724 Annus Sanctus

The thick smoke burned her lungs; with every breath Aelis it was as if a hairball lodged itself in her lungs, and she would choke only to catch her breath and choke some more, continuing the cycle of horrid events. It wasn't even the breathing that was difficult, the black smog stung her eyes until they watered and singed her pale skin. It wasn't too long ago that the entire orphanage was sound asleep in the early hours of the morning, the cherubim babes snuggled into their tattered blankets. But they would be dead.

Aeilis pushed her soot-matted hair, once platinum, out of her face – the stubborn strands clung to her neck and shoulders making it all the worse for wear. The wood beneath her feet heated and curled, their splinters latching onto the exposed skin, slicing it – infection could set in even if she did escape death by fire. It was strangely quiet, though, for an orphanage burning to hell, but perhaps it was all for the best to not have to hear the screams of children being torched alive. It was quiet save for the crackling of flames and an odd sizzling noise. It was best to ignore it.

Another gasp and a rasp burst through her smoke-strangled throat as she hammered at the thick oak door – bolted shut from the outside? Then she tried the windows, thumping her fists against the thick glass, prying until her nails tore off her very fingers. There was no use; even the windows were sealed with age. The roar of flames in the background filled her head. There was no use, was there?

If it was even possible, the heat grew even hotter, peeling her skin; she took a breath of smoke and the smell of burning hair – and flesh – reached her lungs. "Help!" Like it would be loud enough, anyway. She forced her eyes to open and accept the searing smoke – if it were to be the last thing she did, she would see why she was stupid enough to die. Even though everything tore at her auburn irises, Aelis couldn't see a thing, the smoke making her knees give way and strike the peeling floor. Hell, she would love to die now.

She slapped herself mentally. Not now. Not yet. She couldn't die yet, not when she's survived so long. There had to be something, anything, laying around – Old Man Jargus always had a room full of garbage – she needed something! Blistered hands scraped, groped for any sort of object, any type of hope – and yes! What was it? No matter. Aelis's heart almost soared out of her chest for the sake of joy, and her fingers curled about a fire-whitened hilt. It burned the skin off her hands. It was as if the fire itself seared a path up the nerves of her arm and well into her very core. With a scream ripping from her vocal chords and past her lips, Aelis forced her air-starved muscles to move, and jammed the tip of the heated sword into the crevice of the shut window and pried.

With a crack and a shock of cold air, it opened. Aelis couldn't wait to scramble out the window, heaving herself onto the ledge. It finally happened; the adrenaline left her limbs and all she could do was slip off, land with a thud onto the earthen floor, and crawl on her hands and knees as far as she could go. Air. Gulps of air filled her lungs – and Gods – she would be caught for heresy for saying that – was it heaven. Her light gasps came out in white puffs; it was almost heaven in the frigid air of winter.

Clattering steel and gruff voices took to the air; it sounded like soldiers – guards? It didn't matter if they were here to help. It didn't matter if they were here to kill her. She just had to run. She was angry – yes, that was it. Aelis's jaw clenched. Everything has gone. "Shit." Amazed that she still had breath to utter anything – albeit it being under her breath – Aelis staggered up to feet and ran into the forest, rusted sword still in tow.

† *† * †

His hand tangled in her fire red hair. The other one – she didn't want to feel it. She didn't want to feel it groping her breast hard enough to bruise. His armor too – it crushed her against the hard, snow-dusted earth. She screamed, screamed, screamed, her voice ripping from her throat just as he tears the top of her already tattered shirt. Maybe she should focus on the cold floor, the roots of old trees digging into her back, as he yanked her hair, snapping her head back, attacking her neck with frenzied bites. Maybe she should focus on the sound of dried leaves shuffling as he rasped in her ear, "How do you like your Goddess, Heretic?" He laughed, and she winced. "Pray to her, whore! Pray to your whore Goddess!" The guard laughed.

"Stop – !" Rosalia grimaced as he shoved her legs apart. She wouldn't do it. She wouldn't use a thing. She wouldn't blow it now, not when they were so close.

"You, stop squirming." He took a fist to her face for some discouragement. A crack accompanied her scream. "You think we don't know your little orphanage worshipped the Goddess?" Rosalia could only steady her breathing. She couldn't expose them now. She would close her eyes. That's it. Ignore how he removed his hand from her hair to grip her throat, and lift her skirt with the other, then fumbling past her undergarments. She would just breathe. That's it. That's it. He could have her. And she would forget it.

Get it over with, get it over with, get it over with, she thought, screamed in her head. His fingers greedily pressing inside – it hurt. She would focus on the pain in her broken ankle – it was her own fault for being so clumsy. Tears sprang to her eyes, biting her lips. She wouldn't care when he fumbled at his leather breeches with a grunt. "Shut-up and stay still, whore. I'll kill you I hear you screa— Argh!" It stopped. She wouldn't open her eyes, yet.

"Rosalia!"

Rosalia recognized that voice. Who—?

"Rosalia, get up!" Rosalia opened her eyes to see Aelis standing over a … somewhat wounded guard. Aeilis had struck him, only managing a scratch to his face with the rusted-blunted sword. It wasn't a bad swing, Rosalia judged, granted that the other girl was a seventeen-year-old and had what was about as useful as a stick. But she was grateful, amused, everything – her hands were shaking. It was one sacrifice she would not have to make in this lifetime. But it was her duty

The guard laughed and lunged at Aelis with his own sharpened edge. Untrained, inexperienced in the art of battle, and utterly startled, Aelis only did the thing she knew: she lifted the sword for a messy parry and shouted, "Rosalia, run!"

Oh if only she could. "Aelis! What are you doing?! Get away!" Rosalia screamed back, slightly exasperated at the other girl. But what did she expect? Aelis was always of the stupid noble sort. And so, Rosalia couldn't help the idiots. But no matter how stupid the girl was, Rosalia's heart spilled when she saw red.

"Die, filthy scum." The guard's blade jutted from the left side of Aelis's chest. Her expression was blank, as if she couldn't or wouldn't believe that she had died. Rosalia blinked tears from her eyes. It shouldn't be this way. Even though Aelis was stupid, she didn't deserve this. He wrenched the sword out, but not before twisting his grip for a morbid squelch that turned Rosalia's stomach. The thud confirmed that Aelis had become a corpse.

Red stained the lightly snow dusted floor, pooling, pouring. If only it would stop. If only, it would all go back inside. If only…

Just this once.


	3. 2: Stomp the Calla Lilies

****Yes, second real chapter, and as usual, same disclaimer as before. People are going to get bored of it.

Also, thanks to those few readers or clickers - much much much love.

I hope to update quickly so we can get some real action in! And reviews would also be much loved as well. Until the next update, peace ~

- Camena

**Chapter 2: Stomp the Calla Lilies**

"_Pitiful."_

Who was it?

"_Mortal, have you desire to live?"_

What? Was it asking her? Aelis tried to lift her head, to look around for the source of the voice so filled with power. But she was dead, wasn't she? It was no use to move. More importantly, why in all the hells was it asking her if she wanted to live? Maybe this was what it was like being dead; no one to talk to but herself. She must even be changing the voices to entertain herself.

"_Answer me, Mortal!"_

The voiced boomed within her dead inner ears, making her very soul shudder. Of course she wanted to live, but there was only one slight problem: she was already dead. One couldn't just come back from the dead.

"_And yet you are conscious."_ The voice laughed. It was low and almost rumbling; it was as if the voice itself had a presence that towered over her spirit with power that only grew by the minute. _"Ah, Mortal. You are a funny one."_ The voice paused, like it was pondering something – something amusing. And Aelis didn't like it. She knew that tone. That tone, which got her into being the butt of more jokes than she cared to remember, was never a good sign.

"_Let's make a deal, Mortal."_

Aelis didn't say anything. Her head was certainly playing odd tricks on her, and she wondered if she was really dead.

"_No, you're not dead. Not officially, Aelis. Let's say, you're caught in a limbo of sorts, until you decide your fate."_

Oh, she could decide now? Why hadn't she been able to decide how her biological parents didn't throw her out like garbage, why hadn't she been able to will the fire away from the orphanage, why –

"_Answer me, Aelis; do you wish to live?"_

For once her mind was silent. Why would she want to live? Her life had been less than glamorous. But somehow, this wasn't a satisfying enough death. Aelis always thought she'd die alone, but happy, or at least, not under the excruciating foot of poverty.

"Yes." Her own voice, a whisper against the other, answered.

"_Then you have your end of the bargain to uphold. You must, in turn, do something for me."_

"What do you want?" Oh, she was certainly curious now, but she somehow knew that it would bite her in the ass later on.

"_You shall see."_

"How do you know I'll uphold my end of the deal," Aelis spoke – or thought-spoke – faster than she could hold her tongue.

"_Like this."_

"Wha—" Aelis felt a pang of cold air. Then, she tasted blood and salt and soot and whatever else was on the ground upon her tongue and gagged. Gods, were her limbs stiff. Aelis struggled to stand as her shirt, wet with blood, clung to her frigid skin, and of course whatever entity had been merciful enough to allow her a second life wasn't so merciful as to give her a new shirt. Blood? With a startled gasp, Aelis patted herself down, checked her palms and feet and knees, and tentatively took a gander down her shirt to see if there was a gaping a hole in her chest.

Nothing! Well, almost nothing. "Yes!" She couldn't help but grin wildly at her luck – even though there was a raw scar over her heart – "Ah!" Aelis grimaced and clutched at her newly closed wound as pang of soreness struck with an accompaniment of a faraway voice reminding her of her promise and who had, indeed, given her life back.

"Aelis!" Rosalia cried out in surprise. Her cerulean eyes caught a glimpse of a residual glow over the newly revived girl's heart – a trick of the snow? With a blink, it was gone. There was the smell too – strangely floral, like calla lilies; it was light, clean, morning dew-esque, and Rosalia wondered if that was her imagination as well. It was the cusp between winter and spring, but still – no flowers would bloom so soon.

Her thoughts and the initial shock in the air were broken by a shout of guttural dismay. "You are heretics! You – you!" The guard stood shaking with terror. "The walking dead! I knew it – " He gasped through chattering teeth, "I knew the Goddess was behind this!" He clawed at tufts of his hair while drawing shaking breaths, "I'll end you. I'll end you both. You'll be the death of us all." Aelis and Rosalia threw uncomfortable glances at one another – the man's pupils were dilated. It struck Aelis as intriguing. How could people become so pathetic?

Rosalia pressed her palms against the floor and wobbled to her feet; Aelis wasn't too lax with waiting to help her up. Lean, and slightly malnourished arms wrapped around her waist. It was alright, Rosalia decided, after all, she wouldn't be getting anywhere by herself. But still reluctantly, she draped one of her arms over Aelis's shoulders.

The guard rounded on them again, the sword reflecting red-tinted snow. Aelis raised her own sword in defense.

"Aelis! What are doing? Are you trying to die? Again?" Rosalia's voice seemed to drip with frustration.

"What does it look like," Aelis growled back. "If I were trying to die, I would've stayed dead and saved him the trouble." What's with Rosalia, anyway? She wasn't usually so snippy. "Just shut-up, and help me out already! You're getting heavy."

Of all the nerve… A heavy tint of red splashed across Rosalia's face, and had nothing else to say when she felt the slender girl's muscles tremble, so she merely gripped Aelis's shoulder a little tighter in hopes of supporting her own weight. Aelis straightened a little. Maybe it wasn't entirely Rosalia's fault, but all the same, the cold as well as the weight was quickly sapping her strength.

With a battle cry and some exaggerated brandishing of his sword, the guard lunged for them, both hands gripping the handle of his sword. "I'll kill you both." Aelis grunted with effort to heft her sword up to strike –

A crunch resounded through the forest. A burst of sound, partridge wings beating rapidly against the air, almost in desperation, followed the initial stomp. And following that, were the screams of the guard, choked off by his own blood until there was nothing but the sound of tearing. Aelis gulped. Before her, a dragon was ripping the man to shreds with teeth and claw. Its leathery wings beat on occasion as it enjoyed its meal.

It must have been the smell of blood and the ruckus that have attracted it. "Aelis," Rosalia whispered, and Aelia could hear a slight tremble in her voice, but she dared not turn to look or even breathe. "I think we should leave…" Rosalia stated. Aelis gave her a slight glare. Of course they should leave, but how? It wasn't a particularly large dragon – a little stocky with thick hide, and its wings seemed a little small in comparison to its body. It was possible to fight – a wet crack and the distinct sounds of bones crunching and grinding under teeth had Aelis abandon the thought with haste.

It wouldn't be bad idea to take Rosalia's advice. She held her breath and felt Rosalia do the same as they inched backwards in hopes of finding a tree; one would think there were plenty of trees in the forest to hide behind, but Fortuna had exhausted her grace upon Aelis today. Either the trees were too slim or they were so huge that it would take an eternity to get around. Slowly, they shuffled their way back as the dragon, seemingly oblivious to the other potential meal making their escape.

Aelis barely breathed, but she swore that her heart was hammering hard enough for everything in a ten-score radius could hear it. Her arm was straining as she attempted to soften Rosalia's clumsy hopping, hoping that she wouldn't let go and drop the other girl. The dragon raised its snout into the air and sniffed. It couldn't be done already! Aelis and Rosalia froze. Its earthen toned front claws rose off the ground as it extended its height, rearing up. Don't breathe. Aelis couldn't tell whose heart beat did what and who was trembling. They clung to each other until their knuckles turned even paler, until they couldn't feel their hands and couldn't tell if it was from the cold or pure fright.

The dragon huffed. Freeze. Not a single twitch. It let out a low growl of disappointment and seemed to lose interest, stretching its wings as it came to all fours with surprising grace. Aelis stood watching in awe and terror as she reveled in the beast's magnificence; those wings were of leather, thin but strong; the thick bone curved in its flexibility to fold and unfold; the muscles along its back tightening and coiling as if the power within them was about to burst forth .

She felt a hard nudge at her side and turned to see Rosalia's disapproving glare dipped in exasperation. "Get moving," her eyes said with in silence. Aelis took some tentative steps back, another, another – crack. Rosalia shot her a look of disbelief. iShit./i The dragon tensed, whirled around to spot the two girls; giving a roar that shook the trees and the very earth they were standing on and charged. The ground below them rumbled with the weight of the great beast – hell was it fast. Aelis could've killed herself right there for her own lack of grace.

Without thinking, Aelis mustered up whatever strength she had to shove Rosalia out of the way as far as she could and made for a dive in the opposite direction. "Hey!" Aelis shouted. The dragon spotting Rosalia first, reared to face Aelis. She got its attention, now what? "Hey!" She shouted again and kept shouting, pounding her sword against tree trunks, roots, and whatever made noise, and ran. The dragon followed not hesitating to lunge with its jaws agape, roaring in lieu of this new excitement.

Aelis didn't know what she was doing or why she was doing it, but she was doing it. Crying out in fear she scrambled aside again, narrowly dodging its teeth, struggling up and whirling to face her assailant. Before she had time to steady herself, an enormous claw swatted her to the side – and it was only a swat. The air broke from her lungs, her lungs collapsing in a prolonged deflation, tossing breath into the realm of nonexistence. Aelis curled clenching her teeth and clutching her stomach, and finally, breath. She took in air in a wheezing gasp, the blackness of her beginning to recede.

Instinct forced her to roll with a wild swing of the useless word as that same claw plummeted towards her with too much speed. "Rosalia, get out of here!" If that was the only thing she could do, she would buy time for the other girl; after all, Aelis did sentence herself to death, again. It was by chance that she got up to her feet again just as the dragon lunged again, and again Aelis whirled away, her feet having desperation of their own. The dance continued, so she decided to try her hand at striking, and swung.

The sword only made a sort of whipping sound as the blunted edge struck the rough, thick skin upon its snout. With a blind swing, something gave under the force of the sword, and Aelis had courage enough to open her eyes to look; another roar broke loose from booming vocal chords in the wake of blood spurting from one of its eyes. Amazed by her luck, Aelis took the chance to sprint backwards, but the dragon wouldn't have it. She saw the rage burn its remaining eye – if it would kill her and it would kill her in spite and not hunger. Spite?

Another flurry of attacks and Aelis could barely stand, backing in between giant roots of a tree with a gnashing jaw inches away. Her muscles were numb and her sword was broken and bent – useless. The cold was finally taking its toll, but Rosalia could have gotten a good head start by now. The grip on her sword was solid only because it was as if the cold had frozen her hand and each of her fingers in place, fusing her skin to metal. She could hardly hear now, only see the jaw and hole of teeth salivating, digging away the roots in splinters; Aelis had gone beyond the point of terror and could only stare.

A crackling sound and a sudden burst of heat woke her from her clouded mind. The smell – the smell was stomach wrenching – decaying flesh, stomach acid, soot, burning innards, blood, everything overwhelmed her sense of smell. If there was anything in her stomach at that point, it would have been upon her shirt joining the drying blood. She looked down the mouth of the dragon and saw the beginnings of a fireball coiling at the back of its throat, and clenched her eyes shut to hope for the best.

"Hey!" Shouting and some clattering noises. It was Rosalia!

"Rosalia, what the hell are you doing? Get out," Aelis shouted. The dragon pulled back and turned on the red-head, irritated at the noise and the sting of particles upon its wound. Rosalia had managed to limp her way towards the battle, her heart racing – she had no idea why she was doing something like this.

"Aelis! Get out of there!" Rosalia screamed as the dragon dashed for her.

"Rosalia!" Aelis hurried to her feet and made a hopeless dash forward.

Sticky blood splashed to the floor. Aelis crashed to her knees, energy spent and completely exhausted. A gash gaped wide on the dragon's hide, bubbling with thick blood, a major artery severed. Aelis looked up to see two figures – two men with their swords drawn. One was dark-skinned, older, his beard meticulously groomed, his ebony military-cropped hair peppered with white, his jaw set and hard. The other was shaggy, stone-skinned, ears pointed, a goatee matching his silver hair that was carefully parted by a skillful comb, his posture leaning, cocky…and with Rosalia in his arms. Aelis frowned at Rosalia's perpetually thickening blush.

The dragon screeched, rearing up a final time. "Ready your sword, Otto!" The older male's gruff voice reprimanded Otto, the one with Rosalia in his arms.

"I would, Cillian! But, alas, I have a beautiful lady in my arms! She would be frightened!" Otto pouted with an exaggerated expression of concern, hugging Rosalia closer.

"Otto…" The other man huffed in exasperation. Aelis was about to charge forth in attempts to recover Rosalia from some unknown pervert's grasp when a glint of a movement from Cillian caught her eye. She ducked and crashed to the floor, feeling the wind from his swing brush the top of her head, a couple of platinum strands floating to the floor. And all was quiet. The dragon collapsed in a spray of blood, its throat neatly split, revealing a sprawled Aelis.

When Cillian's eyes met her own, a chill shot down her spine. "My apologies, madam. I didn't see you. Are you hurt?" His concern was surprising, given his cool demeanor.

"Er...yes – I mean, no! Uh. Thank you." Aelis scampered to her feet in a mostly failed attempt at looking somewhat presentable.

Otto's voice rang out with presumptuousness as he clutched a nervous and undeniably blushing Rosalia. "Oh! Miss! Are you quite alright? I was certain my heart was stopped when I saw your beautiful visage. And even more certain that my heart broke when that horrible beast wouldn't be tamed by the beauty such as your— "

"She's quite alright, thanks," Aelis cut in. She pried Rosalia out of Otto's arms much to his disappointment and supported her familiar weight again.

"Aelis, are you alright?" Rosalia looked at her with concern.

Otto stared at her then at Rosalia. "Otto!" He turned to follow his superior. "Move out. We have a job to do." Cillian's voice was commanding and authoritative – Otto followed. "You two better get moving as well. It won't get better here." With that the man, Cillian, left.

Otto began to follow, but paused, tossing them his cloak and a long dagger. Aelis glared at him. "You can't expect to use that," he gestured to Aelis's broken sword. "It would be a shame for such a beauty to die here – all because of an inexperienced hand." With a chuckle, he spoke again, "I'll give you a clue: that way," Otto pointed north and left with a flourished bow. Aelis clenched her teeth and stomped out her pride, tossing the old sword away, picking up the dagger and cloak and wrapping it about the both of them.

"Aelis?" Rosalia's cerulean eyes searched her auburn ones. Another waft of calla lilies tickled the air around them.

"Let's go." Aelia, attentive and careful, led Rosalia close to the shelter of trees. They would have to get out of the forest if they were to avoid more forest dragons or even Hostia.

"Aelis." Rosalia, paused, and smiled more to herself. "Thanks. Even though you're an idiot."

Aelis looked back with indignity and huffed. "What are you for trying to save an idiot then," Aelis muttered under her breath. They both giggled with relief, but nervousness. Aelis shifted her weight as they continued moving north. "I guess we'll follow _Otto's_ advice." They were safe, for now.


End file.
